


Tie Your Seams In With Mine

by thatstupidchild



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton - Freeform, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens - Freeform, Dancing, John Laurens - Freeform, M/M, bear with me I'm new here i don't know how to tag, teen! Alexander Hamilton, teen! John Laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatstupidchild/pseuds/thatstupidchild
Summary: “John Laurens watches the boy through a crack in the door of the dim studio. Music pulsates, only assisting the movements in letting John know that home can wait.Home can wait.Again.Because this boy has John's attention. He always stays after. And there he is.Again.”(this is my first work, so feedback is appreciated <3)





	Tie Your Seams In With Mine

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work posted on here, i hope you enjoy it :)

Body twists, hair comes loose, arms  
lift. Drop. Bend.   
Music peals over the dancer, entering through his chest. Through his nose, ears, hips.   
Courses up, around, down with movements. Staccato, legato. 

John Laurens watches the boy through a crack in the door of the dim studio. Music pulsates, only assisting the movements in letting John know that home can wait.   
Home can wait.  
Again.   
Because this boy has John's attention. He always stays after. And there he is.  
Again.

Chords rise and fall with the swell of the melody. Swirl, spin, start, stop.   
Stop.   
He can't stop.  
He can't stop watching.   
As it would seem, neither can the dancer. His movements don't falter as the songs change. He takes it in stride, making a swipe of his hand through his long hair look like a deliberate part of his dance. 

John wants to join him, he thinks. 

Eyes close, head drops to doorframe. Embarrassment coils. Burns. Burning.   
Breathe, breathe.   
Breathe.   
Breathe.

Skin. 

Skin touches skin, John jumps back. The boy is there, sweaty. No. The boy is there glowing, John thinks vaguely. The boy is as beautiful as his movements.   
He takes his hand. Smiles. Pulls. Lips move.

"Ah, what?" 

Eyes soften. Smile softens. "You're pretty. Would you join me?" 

Burning.   
Again.   
Burning through John's stomach, through his chest and his neck as he nods. He moves with the boy, toeing his shoes off, as the burning shoots down his legs. The boy's hands alight on his hips.

 

The song starts.

John knows this song. He doesn't listen to the radio. He doesn't have to. His sister does, he thinks vaguely. He thinks she likes this one. Yes, she does. 'You'd like to dance to this, John.' She had said. 

John never paid it much mind until the seams of his body tied themselves in with the beauty dancing beneath him. The boy, though shorter, takes more of the lead. He already has the energy of the music coursing though him. They feel out each others movements at first. Feed off chemistry. Feed off energy. Feed off the big dark eyes that never seem to leave John's. 

Everything of John is covered in something new, then.   
New.   
Burning.   
It crashes, it writhes.   
He takes the lead. 

The boy takes it in stride, John's hands alight on his hips. Follow me. He thinks. Pushes, pulls. 

John's body twists. Somewhere, somehow, his hair comes loose. Curls spill. The boy lifts his arms. John drops his. The boy bends.  
The chorus peals over dancers, entering through their chests. Through their noses, ears, hips.   
John's heart mingles with the beat of the guitar. Staccato movements mingle with legato.

The boy watches him through the crack in his half lidded eyes. John has this boy's attention. John is burning.   
Burning.   
Burning.   
This knowledge is burning. 

Skin. 

Skin touches skin, the boy's eyes are burning, face blissful. Pretty. John thinks. He's very pretty. 

Their bodies are moving faster now, curling and intertwining. John softens, smiling lightly as the song begins its climax. The boy's eyes are still on his. Reading.   
Burning.   
Feeling. 

Pretty. 

John's chest blooms. The song wracks through his core, the boy rakes a hand through John's hair. Makes it part of his dance. They spin faster, tighter. 

Breathe.

The boy's hips roll under his hands.   
Breathe.   
John's hand finds the back of the boy's neck. The music peals. 

The boy's body twists, his hair is loose, his arms lift. He drops. He bends. 

John leads. 

They breath together, their eyes are locked. The music swells. The voice of the melody rings out, unaccompanied. 

And there is quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @hurricanesandink


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